The McGonagalls
by MinnieDiabolo
Summary: There is a place in Northern Scotland where no one respectable lives... and one of the least respectable families of all is the McGonagall family. Follows Minerva McGonagall, 22, and her three brothers and sisters, as they try to make sense of the town th
1. Prologue: Slumland

The town itself was in an area of Scotland few people wish to go to, or even think twice about. It lays on one of the northernmost inlets of Scotland, almost foolishly close to the sea. To the casual observer, there would seem nothing wrong with the town; it was small, certainly, but what wasn't in that part of Scotland? It was clean enough, the cobblestone streets were free of rats or bile, and all of the almost ridiculously large houses that paved the cobblestone street had little flowerboxes in their shining windows filled, interestingly enough, mostly of thistles. If someone were to look harder at the little town, however, they would notice some singular facts about it. First of all, absolutely no one seemed to be awake before noon, and most people seemed to rise at about one to one thirty in the afternoon. Secondly, there were absolutely no shops anywhere. Where did these inhabitants get groceries? How did they make a living? They couldn't all be fishermen.

In 1634 a group of young female Witches were proved to have been committing unspeakable charms on a group of young, handsome, and swarthy Muggle men. The Witches who committed these crimes were also shockingly young, the oldest one being just sixteen. For this reason they were pardoned being sent to Azkaban, which although at that time was not guarded by Dementors, was still a horrible place for any young lady to be sent to – although it was arguable whether these Witches could be called "ladies".

So the women were exiled far away from any villages. They were told to settle far away in northern Scotland, where it was assumed that they would die, or at least live alone and obscurely, until their death.

One year later, a band of Gypsy Witches and Wizards magical powers was found guilty of stealing bread and other food from Diagon Alley. Giving them the normal misdemeanor fine for shoplifting was too easy for them, because they were, after all, _Gypsy Wizards_, but sending them to Azkaban was, again, to harsh a punishment for stealing simple foodstuffs to feed one's poor children, no matter how racist the judge. The sentence? Why, they would go to the same location in Northern Scotland, and be exiled with the women of last year.

Soon, anyone "low class" enough in the Wizarding world who had committed a small enough crime to warrant them an alternative to Azkaban was sent to the remote location in Scotland, which had gotten the name, because of the horrible poverty of the area, as simply Slumland. By 1690, when the policy of sending criminals to Slumland had been abolished, Slumland had over 1,000 inhabitants.

It was illegal to send a Slummer, as the inhabitants of the town became to be called, to a formal school such as Hogwarts, and it was looked down upon to employ one for anything respectable. For unrespectable things, well, it seemed that the Slummers were _made_ to be employed in unrespectable ways. To all respectable Witches and Wizards, all the Slummers were shockingly bad and evil people. Rumors about horrendous "rites of passage" ceremonies, forced prostitution, and bizarre vampire-related myths circulated about them so densely that they were soon regarded as fact. It was considered _better_ for the Slummers to stay and live in Slumland, in the control of the Minsitry of Magic. They were a danger unto themselves. A Slummer was branded with a curly "S" tattoo on their upper back shortly after their birth by a member of the Magical Enforcement Control, and they were not allowed to move out of Slumland.

Approximately 250 years later, the Slumlands were populated with about 5,000 inhabitants. (The slow population rate was due to a high infant mortality rate and the general refusal of St. Mungo's to admit anyone with a tattooed "S" on the back.) Most of the inhabitants claimed themselves as a mix of Scottish, English, and Gypsie, and they had constructed a small tartan flag with a green "S" emblazed on it to show their patriotism to the Slums.

Inside one of the largest houses in all of Slumland, a shambling Victorian looking house with an odd brightly red roof, Claire McGonagall had a wicked hangover.


	2. Chapter 1: Hangovers and Bikinis

Minerva walked down the main twisting staircase in her house, wanting a word with her older brother Marshall about the ridiculous amount of money Mundugus Fletcher was charging them for black market ContreceptionCream. Mundungus was only seven or eight, but he already had quite the black market business going for him, and he was already turning out to be a ruthless bargainer.

Stepping into the kitchen, she found her mother and Marshall deep in conversation. They stopped talking abruptly as Minerva entered the room and suddenly became extremely interested in the cracked tea set Marshall was pouring tea from.

"What is it?" Minerva asked warily. "Were you talking about me?"

"Of course not," Becca, the mother of Minerva, Marshall, Claire, and Georgie, said smoothly, calmly smoothing down the front of her tight black miniskirt. "You don't do anything _exciting_ enough to talk about," Becca said softly, giving Marshall a not-so-subtle meaningful look and stalking off, slamming the kitchen door behind her.

Marshall looked at Minerva apologetically.

"Minerva, don't be mad at her," he began, but Minerva cut him off.

"Well to her, being exciting means sleeping with four men in the same evening while high on dragon's tooth and feeding lusty vampires blood, so I _suppose, _well, I haven't done anything exciting," Minerva snapped, her face very white.

Marshall sighed and began to say something when the door swung open and Sophie, wearing what resembled a sparkling turquoise bikini, pranced in the room. Minerva groaned loudly.

"Hello, Marshall, Hello... Minerva," Sophie sneered, doing a little twirl in front of Marshall. "This outfit suits me better than Claire, don't you think, Marshall? She just doesn't have the chest that I have, sad, really." Sophie then proceeded to lean closer to Marshall, assumedly to demonstrate the fullness of her chest to him.

"She also doesn't have the rear that you have, Sophie," Minerva said sweetly. "Would you like another doughnut before you go onstage?" Minerva said, offering her a pastry from the tea plate in front of Marshall. "I know how much you like sweets."

"At least I have _some_ curves, you emaciated skeleton bookworm," Sophie snarled, rearing up to full height, which, with her stilettos could be quite impressive. "And at least I can –

"_Stop it._" Marshall snapped firmly. He had been forced to take many classes on discipline and argument mediation in part of his training to be the next Head, and his voice could be quite impressive when he tried. Sophie and Minerva stopped, and looked meekly at him.

"Sophie, get ready for the show. You're almost late. Minerva, come take a walk with me. We need to talk."

"What... What do you want to talk about, Marshall?" Minerva asked, even though she knew exactly what was coming.

"Sit down, Minerva," Marshall said, indicating a bench next to the thicket that the McGonagall house was next to. Minerva could already hear the expectant shouts of the many wealthy, and not-sp-wealthy men who came to the Slums nightly to get a girl, see a strip show, or even more and more popular these days, to gamble. Or they came and hid in the shadows and hired a murderer to get rid of their unfaithful wife, or their horrible boss, or their ungrateful son... Minerva tried her best not to think of _that_ side of the Slums.

Marshall sighed, laced his fingers together and looked up at the night sky.

"We're a stripping family, Minerva," he said softly. "We don't steal for most of our money, we don't hold dirty gambling games, we thankfully don't kill people for money... we send our women onstage to sort of dance a bit with no clothes on. We've been doing it ever since our family was banished here." The McGonagalls are said to be direct descendants from one of the original female Witches. The McGonagall women have a rich history of not being afraid or timid about their sexuality, including stripping.

Minerva looked down at her hands, feeling timid.

"I know," she whispered.

Marshall shook his head.

"Minerva, you really should strip. You're 22, for God's sake! Nobody else gets the jitters at being naked like you." Minerva chewed her lower lip, and didn't look up. Marshall sighed again.

"But," Marshall began heavily. "I'm not going to make you strip. We've never had to actually brutally force our women to participate in the show, and I don't intend to start. You will, however, need to at least bartend."

"What do I have to wear?" Minerva asked at once, fearing the skimpy outfits that most bartenders in her family wore.

"Claire is going to help you chose one." Marshall said, smiling at Minerva's paling face.

"Oh my God, she's going to fling me into the Bar Area practically naked," Minerva groaned, covering her face with her hands.


End file.
